


more than 30 seconds, or ties and [expletive deleted]

by GoddessEris00



Series: Doppelgang-island [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessEris00/pseuds/GoddessEris00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny proves it. Follow up to "30 Seconds, or Doppelgangers and Magic Markers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	more than 30 seconds, or ties and [expletive deleted]

Danny paused at the doorway of his room. He had headed here straight after taking his shower, slowing only to towel off and throw on the same slacks he had been wearing yesterday and a mostly clean shirt that he had not bothered buttoning. Seeing the words Steve had super-stealthed onto his chest (“Property of Steve McGarrett” in anal-retentively neat writing) had filled him with the sudden, urgent demand to end this game already. They had been dancing around each other and their instant connection almost since meeting, hinting and teasing, but never quite admitting what was patently obvious. It was time to have a serious chat with his partner.

Except that the sight of Steve sprawled carelessly across the bed—not under the covers and in nothing but his boxers—was almost enough to derail Danny’s train of thought. Almost, but for the not quite so neat scrawl Danny had placed on Steve’s back yesterday. "If found, return to Danny Williams" was clearly visible and served as a reminder that he had come in here to talk to Steve, not to shamelessly drool over his bare back and exposed legs, no matter how tan and toned and tempting they happened to be.

Danny moved to the end of the bed, and spoke his partner’s name while also shaking one of Steve’s feet. The reaction was instantaneous and unsurprising (Danny had chosen his location with some amount of forethought) as Steve moved almost faster than the eye could follow, supine in one instant, bolt upright in the bed the next, one hand reaching to his side as if for a weapon, the other clutching… something blue?

“What are you holding?” said Danny. “Is that one of my ties?”

“What?” responded Steve blankly. Now that he had determined there was no danger, his initial alertness was fading as the adrenalin drained out of his body. He gave a half yawn and looked down at the cloth in his hand.

“You woke me up for this?”

“No. No I did not. But now that I’m here, Steve, I find that I am truly curious about the situation. Are you honestly so clueless about what constitutes appropriate attire that you thought ties were worn while sleeping? Or do you actually have a secret fetish? I have to say, had I known you would molest my ties in the middle of the night, I would probably not have offered to let you stay in my apartment.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been molesting Danny’s ties. Had he? Danny was the one with the obvious tie fetish, not him, always wearing the damn things no matter where their cases took them. In fact, now that he thought about it…

“I was going to hide them from you, I think,” began Steve slowly, straightening out the tie as some of last night came back him. “All of them. So that you would have to go without for a few days. But I guess I got distracted when I saw this one." The tie was still kind of distracting. "Did you know it had pineapples on it?”

“Did I know—,” Danny began with his usual amount of exasperation before cutting himself off and continuing more evenly: “yeah, that one has pineapples.”

The change in tone caught Steve’s attention and he looked up at his partner.

“Why haven’t you worn this one yet?”

“Do you like it?” countered Danny.

Steve thought about it for a moment, realizing that his answer was important to Danny. “Yeah, actually. I do. So why haven’t you worn it yet? Too Hawaii for you?”

“I wore it on Monday.”

“You—oh!”

“Yeah. Oh,” said Danny. “Imagine my surprise when you didn’t notice. My suspicion, even, when you did not deign to comment on the, shall we say, tropical motif of my outfit that morning.”

Steve returned his attention to the tie, running his finger over the bright image of a pineapple. This little scrap of fabric had helped alert his partner to the fact that Steve had quite literally not been himself, and had probably saved him from spending even more time in captivity.

“I really like this tie,” stressed Steve before setting it on the bedside table.

With one more part of the mystery solved, Steve looked back up at his partner, planning to say something else like “thank you,” or “so why did you actually wake me.” Instead, he saw the sharpie marks on Danny’s chest, half covered by the open shirt, and a couple more details from last night returned to him. He should probably remember not to drink quite so much alcohol directly after being held captive with little to no food or water for several days.

“Sorry about the, uh…” Steve made a little gesture with his hand as if writing in mid-air.

“What is that, are you conducting a symphony, maestro? Are you asking for the bill? Oh, you mean this cute little message you left for me last night,” said Danny, pointing at his chest. “Very nice. Don’t even worry about it. You owed me one, right?”

The echo of his own thoughts from last night flashed across Steve’s mind, and he remembered his private little vow to see this thing through with Danny. Clearly Danny was not mad about what Steve had written. If anything, he sounded… fond. Encouraging, even. However, if he brought it up to Danny, chances are the man would want to have some kind of conversation. About feelings. Or appropriate workplace behavior. Or other things that did not end in kissing, which Steve had to admit, he kind of wanted to try. They would never get anywhere because of Danny's predilection for speech. It was clearly time for a cunning plan.

“Well, come a little closer, then," said Steve. "I can’t see what I wrote from here.”

“What do you mean you can’t see what you wrote? You don’t know what you wrote? Is that what you are telling me?” Now Danny sounded upset, which had not in fact been part of the plan, but as always was easy to do. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that I came rushing out of the shower to see you because of what you wrote, and you don’t even know what you wrote. That’s perfect, it really is.”

“Danny,” said Steve. “All I am telling you is to come closer.”

“Come closer, he says, yes, thank you, I heard you the first time. Please forgive me if me and my embarrassment would prefer to keep our distance for the time being.”

“Danny!” repeated Steve emphatically. “I know exactly what I wrote. Come. Here. Now.”

Danny stared at Steve. That look, that one indescribable look was back on his face.

“Why would… I mean, if you…” stuttered Danny at a rare loss for words. Without thinking, unconsciously acting on Steve's commanding tone of voice, he began to make his way around the bed until he was standing next to Steve, who adjusted his own position so that he was sitting on the very edge of the bed.

“Here,” said Steve, pointing, and Danny obediently moved forward until he was standing directly in front of his partner, with over 40 inches of muscular leg on either side of him. Steve lightly took hold of the left side of Danny’s shirt, moving it aside to expose the lettering beneath. He carefully traced over each word with the pad of his thumb before, with a slightly mischievous upwards glance at Danny’s face, gently scraping his thumbnail over the exposed nipple.

“You just got out the shower?” asked Steve, his attempt at sounding casual failing somewhat due to the gravely texture of his voice.

“Wh—what?” said Danny. He had been staring down at Steve in rapt fascination as his partner admired his own handiwork. “I mean, yeah. Yes. Why?” Half-wondering if Steve was going to give him a hard time for having obviously not tried to remove the ink from his skin.

Steve stood up, the movement bringing him so close to Danny that they were practically touching from head to chest to hips to fucking toes and Danny wonders if he should back up a little. It seemed that proximity to Steve had given him a bit of a "hard time"already.

“It’s just,” murmured Steve, “you just seem to be a little over dressed. As usual.”

Danny sucked in a breath, feeling desperate for oxygen as Steve slipped his hands under the shirt and onto Danny’s broad shoulders, pulling the material down as he slid them down the length of Danny’s arms and back up again to circle around his back. The shirt fell heedlessly to the floor as Steve pulled Danny flush against him, tilting his head down slightly to nuzzle at the warm skin under his ear.

“Oh, god, Steve,” said Danny, feeling like every spot that his partner had touched was on fire in the best possible way. “Wait. Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“You always want to talk,” came the reply, and then Steve was turning his head and pressing his lips against Danny’s and Danny couldn’t help but open his mouth in response, but not for speaking; all thoughts of conversation were gone.

Kissing a man was not the same as kissing a woman, but it was also not exactly as Danny had imagined it (yes he had imagined this and it would be pretty frigging pointless to pretend otherwise right now). There was more stubble-on-stubble action, for one thing, and nobody tasted even faintly like lipstick, and in his imaginings Danny had always pictured himself taking the lead.

Nothing was stopping him now, he supposed. The first moment of shock that had kept him frozen in place like a virgin on prom night was easing up the longer that Steve kept insisting that his tongue belonged inside of Danny’s mouth. This whole thing was uncharted territory, sure, but also it was _Steve_. So Danny began to run his hands up and down his partner's lean back, trying to be mindful of the minor but painful injuries the SEAL had sustained over the past few days; lingering a little when his hands skimmed over where he had staked his claim and dipping down further under the waistband of Steve’s boxers with every pass.

Obviously encouraged by this behavior or maybe sensing a challenge, Steve also stepped up his game, moving back just enough to slide a hand down Danny’s chest and over his abs, easily popping open the button of Danny’s pants and snaking his hand inside.

“Jesus, Danny, you really did get dressed in a hurry,” muttered Steve upon finding no other barrier in there, just the hard, hot length of his partner. Then he was doing something with his hand that felt amazing and impossible given the limited mobility, and had also pressed his mouth against the side of Danny’s neck right over his pulse, suction and teeth and then just the hot press of his tongue _right there_ as his fingers continued to work miracles.

Danny, writhing and moaning and thrusting against Steve’s hand, was hazily able to admit that there would be no lead-taking on his part this time around, but the way Steve had taken to calling his a name, a constant stream of _dannydannydannydanny_ as he bucked steadily against Danny’s hip was enough to make up for it. Turning Danny on seemed to be a turn-on in and of itself for Steve; being in complete control of the situation was obviously another. Danny could feel the evidence of Steve's eagerness pressing against him even through the thick material of his slacks.

Then even that last bit of self-awareness was gone as Steve and his magic fingers did something that started at the base and ran to the tip, something that felt impossibly like pushing and pulling and stroking and cradling all at once, something that had Danny coming with a harsh cry that he belatedly tried to muffle with Steve's collarbone.

Steve thrust against him for a few moments more, now using both hands on Danny’s hips for support before shuddering and becoming still.

They stood in silence for a moment, Steve’s hands on Danny’s hips and Danny’s hands wrapped around Steve’s back, leaning towards each other as if they were propping each other up. Danny tried to wrap his mind around the fact that any of this just happened and how he was supposed to feel, anyway, about how Steve got himself off without any real outside assistance (flattered? guilty? concerned? selfish? _really_ flattered?) and what he should say. And he had no fucking clue what to say, because what could pass for reasonable discourse at a time like this?

But because he is Danny he has to talk even if he has no idea what is about to come out of his mouth.

“I guess now I owe _you_ one.”

And Steve, who had perhaps been bracing himself a little when it became obvious that Danny was going to speak, smiled and said: “Just give me 30 seconds.”


End file.
